


Handshaking

by Foegerfeax



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-04
Updated: 2020-11-04
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:41:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27378898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Foegerfeax/pseuds/Foegerfeax
Summary: After the dodgeball game Razor briefly greets Killua.
Comments: 12
Kudos: 33





	Handshaking

After the dodgeball game, Killua waits and fidgets and complains while Bisky treats his hands, and he keeps craning his neck to look at Gon because Gon is _talking to Razor_ , and Killua wants to _keep an eye on that_. 

The man was trying to kill them mere minutes ago, after all. And Killua’s hearing is sharp but he can’t hear what they’re saying, so he has to keep track of what’s going on visually. Hence, the fidgeting. 

Bisky finishes around the same time that Gon and Razor both seem to relax and retreat from one another, so she cuts off her mumbled rant about the current state of hunks’ personalities and makes a beeline for Gon, presumably so she can fuss over him too. 

Killua pauses to roll his eyes. Which is important because in that split second he takes before also heading over to greet Gon, Razor is moving toward _him_. 

Quickly Killua stands up and shoves his hands in his pockets. 

Razor is very big. Bigger up close.

“Good game,” he says. “Killua, was it?”

Killua looks up at him warily. “Yes.” Killua isn’t used to this kind of sportsmanship. He isn’t used to games, where the hostilities end. Razor doesn’t ask about Killua’s last name. 

Razor’s face is serious and neutral, unlike the disconcerting smile it wore for most of the game. It sets Killua on edge, the novelty of it. 

“What did you tell Gon?” Killua asks. 

“That’s for Gon to tell you. If he wants to.”

_If he wants to._

“I think he will,” Razor adds, kindly. 

Killua says nothing. His hands are throbbing, and he times his breaths with the pain. Tunes it out, which is something he is skilled at. 

“You’re not like Gon,” Razor says. 

Killua wants to bristle at that, because it can only be an insult. But at the same time - Killua isn’t _anything_ like Gon. 

“So?” he says coolly. 

Razor shrugs. “So nothing. I’m just remarking. You seem like an interesting kid.”

Again Killua muffles his instinctual reaction, which is to scoff. He doesn’t like being so close to Razor, doesn’t want to piss him off. Razor is a _monster_. In a physical fight Killua thinks he could take him, size and strength difference notwithstanding; Killua suspects (96% possibility) that Razor is a thug by training, likely to rely more on speed and brutality than the kind of practiced finesse Killua would meet him with. 

But with nen involved - Killua calculates escape routes. 

“How are your hands?” Razor asks. 

Obstinately Killua declines to remove them from his pockets. “Fine,” he says shortly.

“You need any treatment? I can-”

“Bisky wrapped them,” Killua snaps. “I’m fine.” Then instantly regrets the hostility of his tone, because if he’s made Razor angry-

A small smile finds its place back on Razor’s lips. “Sure,” he says. “Just checking.”

So Razor seems easygoing enough now that the game is over.

“You look like you could use some medical attention yourself, old man,” Killua risks saying, jutting his chin at Razor’s palms. 

Razor looks down at them. The skin has been torn, worn away like wood under friction, and it is seeping blood, and the skin all the way up his forearms looks burned and puffy. Unexpectedly Razor grins. “Medical attention? For this?”

Surly, Killua shrugs (hands still in his pockets). “You knew Gon’s old man?” he asks instead of responding. 

A solemn nod. “He believed in me when no one else did.”

Killua’s throat goes tight. “Is he on the island?” 

“What do you care about Ging?” Razor doesn’t sound suspicious, just curious. 

“I don’t,” Killua says bluntly. He cares about _Gon_. 

“Don’t get your panties in a bunch,” Razor says in amusement. “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”

It makes Killua scowl more because he _doesn’t_ have proverbially bunched panties and _if_ he _did_ they wouldn’t be _perceptible_. And Razor is making it sound like he’s _scared_ to explain himself. 

“Well,” Razor says after a beat, “It was nice meeting you. For what it’s worth, I’m glad you dodged right.”

Killua looks Razor up and down. “You would try to kill me again if we were still playing,” he says. 

Razor cocks his head to one side like a bird. He doesn’t try to deny it. “Dodgeball is serious business,” he says. 

“It’s a game.”

“This game is serious business.”

They look at each other for another minute. Razor is first to break the silence, which to Killua is a small victory. “You didn’t pull your punches, either, Killua.” He says the name deliberately, like it is an important thing. “Besides, death is incidental. It’s getting people _out_ that matters.”

Killua scuffs his shoes on the ground in a way that he hopes looks aloof and not petulant. “Whatever, old man.” Razor’s shoes are scorched and worn down, his toes poking through the holes. It looks silly but Killua can’t laugh. 

He doesn’t want to talk to Razor anymore, but Razor hasn’t made a move to leave, so Killua just waits; too wary to be dismissive, but bold enough to be visibly impatient. 

Then Razor speaks again. “You’re friends with Gon?”

“Yes,” Killua says. Fiercely. He doesn’t know where the ire comes from. 

Razor nods. “That’s good. You should stick with him if he lets you.”

_If he lets you._

“He will,” Killua says. And he realizes that he believes it. “I’m his friend.”

“That’s good,” Razor says again. Then he crouches down. Elbows on his knees, his face is level with Killua’s. He is a giant of a man. “I don’t know much about you,” Razor says, “But I’d like to offer some advice.”

“Advice?” As always, Killua is suspicious. 

Razor nods seriously. “Will you take it?”

“I’m listening,” Killua says warily. It feels like Razor is treating him like a child. 

“You’re a person. You know what that means? You have choices. Don’t forget that. Okay, Killua?”

“Is that it?”

Razor’s eyebrows raise a little in surprise. “Yup. That’s it.”

“Okay. Fine. Sure.” He rolls his eyes. “Very helpful.”

The smile doesn’t slip. “You act very casual. You’re a cute kid.”

At that Killua bristles. “Watch it, old man!”

With a hearty laugh, Razor rises to his feet. To tower over Killua once more. “Sorry, sorry,” he says, but he sounds amused and not apologetic at all. “No offense meant. You’re a _cool_ kid. I know you’ll go places.”

And with that Razor pats Killua on the arm - he does it quickly, so fast that Killua doesn’t even have time to be surprised - and heads over to the door where Tsezguerra’s men are congregated. Killua watches him go. Hisoka’s head, too, turns to follow the movement. 

Then - in the meantime Gon has extracted himself from Bisky’s ministrations and he is bounding up to Killua’s side. 

"Killua!” he says, and he says it like it’s no big deal, like it’s the first word always rising to his tongue. “What did Razor say to you?”

“No freaking clue,” Killua says lightly. “What did he say to you? Did he have any good intel on Ging?”

Gon’s eyes light up and he begins to tell Killua everything, and by the time Killua thinks to look around the gym again, Razor is gone.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know what this was, but thanks for reading. Love and appreciation for every review.


End file.
